


Charity

by kethni



Category: Veep
Genre: F/M, post season five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem was his. Was theirs. Not hers. Montez had asked her to remain and had offered generous compensation that she do so. So she remained. The others left. Sue wasn’t responsible for that. </p>
<p>They had all gone out and gotten ridiculously drunk. Drunken texts and tweets hurled her way had attested to that. Sneering and thinly veiled comments from political commentators online had attested to that. </p>
<p>Sue hadn’t been invited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charity

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't really go where I was planning. But hopefully it's still fun.

It was boredom that propelled Sue to accept the invitation. All the senior staff were invited – "strongly encouraged" in fact – to attend the charity ball. POTUS had been caught on the wrong side of public opinion, again, and the administration was scrambling to pretend that it cared.

That was inaccurate. Members of the administration cared very deeply. But while declaring certain expressions of personal freedom "disgusting" and "perverted" might bring rapturous applause in some parts of the country, they were roundly condemned everywhere else.

Not that POTUS would ever say anything as definitive as "disgusting" or "perverted," but she had said other things, supported the wrong ministers, and been caught laughing at the wrong jokes.

Nonetheless, Sue was bored. She rarely liked her co-workers but they generally at least provided some vicarious drama and voyeuristic entertainment. No longer.

It was Sue’s first charity ball. It was an excellent opportunity to get her hair done and rent a gown. She knew that buying one would not have been cost effective. Sue was nothing if not ruthlessly realistic.

She swept into the room in POTUS’s wake, and immediately broke off. Privately, she doubted the wisdom of POTUS coming to the ball. These were not her people. They had been extraordinarily unwilling to invite her and had only done so after a huge amount of political pressure had been brought to bear.

The senior staff clustered fearfully around their leader, unhappy and uncomfortable to be in the unwelcoming presence of people they would privately refer to as "weirdos," "unnatural," and far worse.

Sue didn’t care. She neither supported nor condemned. How other people lived was literally of no interest to her.

POTUS was snapping her fingers at Sue. She was going to pay for that. She might not realise at first, but they always did. They always learnt not to disrespect Sue.

She captured a drink and walked over.

‘You wanted me, Madam President?’

‘Isn’t that one of Meyer’s team?’ she asked.

Sue followed her gesture. Her grip tightened on her glass. ‘Yes, Ma’am. That is Mr Davison, President Meyers’ chief strategist.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m surprised that Mr Ericsson didn’t feel qualified to tell you.’

Bill adjusted his bowtie. ‘I don’t know the man nearly as intimately as you do.’

Sue mentally added Bill to her list of people requiring… correction.

‘Meyer isn’t here, is she?’ Montez asked.

‘I believe that she’s currently in Stockholm,’ Bill said. ‘Working on her “legacy” project.’

There were half-hearted giggles from the other members of staff.

Montez was watching Kent. ‘He seems to be very friendly with these… people.’

Sue was minded to agree. Kent had his hand resting in the small of one woman’s back. He used to do that with Sue. He used to stroke his thumb in the small of her back.

‘Get him over here,’ Montez ordered. ‘I’m not going to let these people pretend to ignore me.’

Ma’am,’ Sue said. She drained her drink and turned on her heel. It wasn’t the first time that Montez had demanded Sue reach out to former co-workers but Sue envisaged it being the most awkward.

By far.

Kent was with a gaggle of women. There were more women generally present than men. This didn’t surprise Sue who had, of course, done her homework.

‘Mr Davison,’ she said.

He glanced at her and his eyes widened. ‘Miss Wilson.’ He held up his hands. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Wilson-Levinson.’

‘It’s Ms Wilson.’

He swirled the ice around in his glass of Scotch. ‘The lack of a wedding ring might have alerted me if you had ever bothered to wear one.’

It wasn’t sarcastic. Sarcasm would at least suggest that he was interested. Instead he sounded bored.

‘The President would like to speak to you.’

‘Has she locked herself out?’ he asked. ‘My spare key to the White House is in my other pants.’

‘Maybe they can’t find the toilet rolls,’ one of the women suggested tartly.

‘Did you leave a bath running?’ another suggested.

‘You are being childish and pathetic,’ Sue said to him.

Kent tilted his head. ‘She’s only here out of a desperate attempt to rehabilitate her reputation.’

Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘You actually sound as if you care. If you do, you should be grateful for the publicity which will doubtless lead to an increase in donations. Her motives have no effect on that.’

Kent sighed. ‘What does she want?’

‘A charming and charismatic host to introduce her around,’ Sue said. ‘Failing that, you will have to do.’

He smiled thinly. ‘Sure. The woman did just shell out for eight tickets.’

Sue caught him looking at her as they walked over to POTUS and the rest.

‘Yes?’ she asked.

‘I said nothing,’ Kent said.

‘You were staring,’ Sue said.

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

He greeted POTUS in Spanish. Sue spoke very little, but didn’t have to in order to understand the sheer panic on POTUS’s face.

She replied in a stumble of words, until her husband, Alejandro, spoke up. After a few sentences Montez smiled sweetly.

‘We are being terribly rude,’ she said. ‘We wouldn’t wish to exclude Ms Wilson and the rest of the party.’

Kent caught Sue’s eye. His smirk was utterly infuriating.

Montez favoured Kent with a true politician’s smile. ‘I would very much like to meet some of the people who work so hard to help members of the transvest –’

‘Transgender and transsexual,’ someone murmured.

‘Transgender and transsexual community,’ she said smoothly.

‘Sure,’ Kent said. ‘Perhaps the volunteer coordinator would be the best person for you to talk to.’

Montez put her hand on his forearm. ‘Please lead the way.’

Kent looked at her hand with mild distaste and flinched a smile closer to a grimace.

‘Why is he here?’ Bill asked Sue, as Kent reluctantly escorted POTUS across the floor.

‘I don’t know.’

‘He’s not...’ Bill smirked. ‘He doesn’t use the facilities. Does he? The beard would be particularly impressive.’

Sue gave him a look. ‘As far as I am aware, Mr Davison is genetically male.’

‘Well, you would know.’ Bill sipped his champagne. ‘I hear the operations are cosmetic. The equipment is just for show.’

Sue gave this due thought. ‘I’m glad you went to prison.’

He stared at her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You are an obnoxious person and I’m glad you went to prison.’

 * * *

Sue refused to ask. She had already been forced into talking to him once. She wasn’t going to do it again. Nonetheless, it was aggravating. The waiters had hors d’oeuvres and they had champagne. Only champagne. How then had Kent been drinking Scotch on the rocks? She refused to ask him.

The problem was his. Was theirs. Not hers. Montez had asked her to remain and had offered generous compensation that she do so. So she remained. The others left. Sue wasn’t responsible for that.

They had all gone out and gotten ridiculously drunk. Drunken texts and tweets hurled her way had attested to that. Sneering and thinly veiled comments from political commentators online had attested to that.

Sue hadn’t been invited.

Kent had been invited. Gary had been invited. Even Jonah and Richard had been invited. Jonah!

But not Sue. She had been disdainfully referred to as “Benedict Wilson” and “Sue-tus” which she thought something of a reach. "Sue Iscariot" at least seemed self-explanatory.

After a dozen or so drunken and scurrilous messages, from almost everyone, she had turned off her cell. In the morning she was prepared to be magnanimous to the regretful and apologetic.

She heard nothing.

Even when she had to contact Ben and Gary, neither apologised. Ben had been cold and Gary not only unhelpful but deliberately obstructive. She was somewhat relieved that she had avoided the need to contact Kent. She should have done, for information on the banking emergency action taskforce, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. Even when they had ceased their romantic relationship they had just about managed to maintain a close working rapport. The prospect of him _soberly_ calling her a Quisling – she’d had to Google that – was not one she relished.

She heard someone say his name. Specifically, she heard a woman she believed to be Tia Wood, the charity founder, growl, ‘where the fuck is Kent? I swear if he’s run away because someone has spoken out of turn...’

Sue glanced at the other woman. Wood was a tech company CEO and she looked like a woman happier with circuit boards than charity balls.

Did they still use circuit boards? Sue dismissed the thought.

Wood was looking at her.

‘Do I know you?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Sue said.

Wood glanced at the discreet red button Sue had been given to wear.

‘Oh, you’re with our great and glorious overlord, El Presidente.’ She shrugged and held out her hand. ‘Tia Wood. Currently experiencing my ninth nervous breakdown.’

‘Sue Wilson. Currently wondering where Mr Davison got his Scotch.’

‘From his office, I imagine. Have you seen him? The little scamp seems to have run away.’

Sue pursed her lips, unsure which part to unpick first. ‘Kent works here?’

‘He looks after the money. Voluntarily. We don’t have any paid employees.’ She gave Sue the once over. ‘So, you’re _the_ Sue Wilson. You’re exactly what I thought you would be.’

‘Efficient?’

‘Cold. No offense. Kent has a type.’

‘Saying "no offense" doesn’t magically render a comment inoffensive,’ Sue said tartly.

Wood shrugged. ‘But saying "offense meant" doesn’t have the same ring to it.’

Sue raised her eyebrow. ‘Why are you seeking to offend me?’

Wood sighed. ‘Because you hurt him. Makes a girl protective.’

Sue gripped her glass. ‘He hurt me.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I love Kent to bits but he’s not got the highest emotional intelligence.’

‘That doesn’t sound like a form of intelligence he would endorse.’

Wood snorted. ‘He doesn’t even much accept psychiatry as a science, and that has oodles of precedent and background.’ She shook her head. ‘Have you seen him?’

‘He must be here somewhere,’ Sue said.

Tia sighed. ‘We’ve got everyone waiting to watch our longest serving volunteer get a shiny plaque and a hearty handshake.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s to celebrate this being our twentieth year.’

‘Can someone else present it?’ Sue asked.

‘Anyone can present it,’ Wood said. ‘Kent’s the only one who can receive it. I’m sure someone’s told him.’

‘Kent?’ Sue asked.

‘He doesn’t do as many hours as he used to,’ Tia said. ‘But more than when he was working at the White House.’

Sue had to take a moment to reorient herself. ‘He doesn’t know about the presentation?’

Wood laughed. ‘We’d have never got him here if he did.’

 * * *

He wouldn’t be in the event area. Too much chance of being spotted. He wouldn’t hide anywhere cold or dirty, so Sue ruled at the basement or the storerooms. Instead she went up, until she saw a fire exit wedged open.

Outside the fire escape had been pulled down. Sue hiked up her dress a little and climbed up to the roof.

Kent had laid out a blanket to sit on, and a plate of food, as well as a bottle of Scotch.

‘People are looking for you,’ Sue said.

He saluted her with his glass. ‘You’ll never take me alive.’

Sue flicked his ear. He scowled and there wasn’t a flicker of amusement in it.

‘You don’t get to do that,’ he said.

‘Because I’m a Quisling.’

‘If the pump fits.’

‘Why are you up here?’ she asked.

‘Why are you?’

‘I was bored,’ Sue did. ‘I wanted Scotch and they were only serving champagne.’

‘It was a tax write-off donation, don’t knock it.’ He glanced at his cell. ‘Tia didn’t send you?’

‘No. She doesn’t know where you are.’

Kent rolled his eyes. ‘Tia has known me for fifty years. She knows where I am.’

Sue sat down beside him on the blanket. He shifted away.

‘She claimed to have no idea.’

‘And did you overhear this? Was she rude to you or dismissive?’

Sue poured some Scotch into his glass and sipped it. ‘You believe I have been manipulated.’

‘Sure do.’

‘To what purpose?’

Kent shrugged. ‘To chase me downstairs.’

‘It doesn’t appear to be working.’

‘Patience.’ He glanced at her. ‘Better yet, go away.’

Sue ignored him. ‘You’ve known her for fifty years?’

‘Since she was the least appropriately named “Roger” ever to borrow my sister’s dresses,’ Kent said. ‘My parents caught me sneaking them out and thought that I was gay.’ He caught her expression. ‘There was very little information at the time. They were ignorant rather than intolerant.’

‘What did they do?’

‘Do?’ he asked. ‘My parents were dyed-in-the-wool hippies. They gave me a long chat about being true to myself. I was nine and had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.’

Sue fought back a smile. ‘They sound admirable.’

‘Unlike present company.’

Sue braced her shoulders. ‘It’s not my fault that POTUS did not invite you to remain in your post.’

‘You think that we’re envious?’ he asked.

‘You called me a Quisling. I’m not going to repeat what Gary called me.’

‘Oh, so you do have some emotions then?’

‘That is unnecessarily cruel, particularly from you,’ Sue said.

She thought he might relent. Might apologise. He did neither.

‘You didn’t care,’ he said. ‘We spent two years, two miserable, desperate years, trying to get and keep Meyer in power. We put blood, sweat, and tears into it. When it all collapsed you were entirely apathetic. You were completely emotionally untouched. You didn’t even come to say goodbye to her.’

‘You despise her,’ Sue objected.

‘That’s irrelevant. The woman was crushed. Despite her myriad failings as a human being, as a president, as an employer, she deserved sympathy. She deserved a show of respect. It was important to her. It was important to us. We deserved a modicum of sympathy and respect. You acted as though the furniture was being replaced.’ Kent stood up. ‘ _Now_ you’re chasing me downstairs.’ He strode towards the fire escape.

‘I miss you,’ she said. She didn’t look at him. She heard his footsteps stop.

‘Are you drunk?’ he asked.

‘Somewhat.’

‘Of course.’

Sue folded her hands in her lap. ‘That doesn’t diminish the accuracy of my statement.’

‘In vino verities?’ he asked sarcastically.

Sue looked up. ‘Don’t mock me.’

‘Newsflash, Ms Wilson, we are nothing to each other. Therefore, I am at my leisure to mock if I so desire.’

Sue stood and walked across to him. Kent’s back stiffened but he didn’t move away.

‘I never said you were nothing to me,’ she said.

‘Your actions and manner were eloquent enough.’

‘You broke up with me,’ she said. ‘Now you’re complaining that afterwards I didn’t care enough?’

Kent shook his head. ‘You know it has nothing to do with that. Gary, Ben and the others don’t care about our break-up.’

‘Gary, Ben and the others are welcome to believe I cared for their leaving as much as I would care about furniture.’ She brushed her fingers through his hair. ‘You are not.’

‘You are one of the coldest people I’ve ever met,’ he said quietly.

‘You know me better than that.’

‘I deluded myself that I did.’

Sue kissed him. After a moment, which lasted for too long, he returned the kiss.

‘Your husband...’

‘Don’t pretend you’re unaware that we’re separated. It insults you as well as me.’

Kent stepped back. ‘There has been gossip.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ she said through gritted teeth. 

‘Separated is not divorced. It’s not even a commitment to get divorced.’

Sue raised her eyebrows. ‘We worked together, Kent. Don’t pretend that morality ever motivates you.’

‘Pragmatic self-protection does.’

She touched his hand. ‘You don’t need to protect yourself from me.’

‘I disagree.’

‘Are you seeing anyone?’ she asked.

His hand twitched. ‘No.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask if I am?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Kent licked his lower lip. ‘I’m not long-term relationship material, remember?’

‘Don’t sulk.’

Kent looked into her face. ‘I won’t be a passing fancy, a bed-warmer, or a placeholder.’

‘I won’t rip open my chest to show you that I care.’

‘The words would be sufficient,’ he said dryly.

Sue took his hand in hers. ‘You realise that is difficult for me.’

‘Sure. But it’s impossible for me without... something.’

Sue kissed him again. This time his free hand cupped her cheek.

‘We should go downstairs,’ Kent said reluctantly.

‘Why are you avoiding it?’

‘It’s utter nonsense. Tia’s only doing it so all the volunteers get a vicarious pat on the back.’

‘Aren’t you a volunteer?’

‘I do the books,’ Kent said, dismissively. ‘I scare up contributions from time to time. I occasionally invite potentially sympathetic political figures to fundraisers or to give support with their names and fame. I haven’t manned the telephones in years, nor do I wish to.’ He played with her hand. ‘It’s exceptionally stressful.’

‘You’re a fool,’ Sue said.

‘What?’

Sue gathered up the blanket. ‘Support functions are vital. Without them everything falls down, in charity work as in politics or as in any bureaucracy.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t argue with me on this.’

‘Rewarding me is fraudulent,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t deserve it.’

‘Then do it to give all the other volunteers that vicarious pat on the back.’

He went ahead of her down the fire escape and took her hand when she stepped off into the corridor.

‘You realise the press will find out we’re seeing each other,’ he said.

‘I’m separated.’

‘Not divorced.’

‘Give me time,’ she said quietly.

‘Of course.’

She saw his mouth tug into a small smile.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘I was imagining how annoyed Montez will be when she finds out.

‘Good.’ Sue squeezed his fingers.

‘Not a fan?’

‘She snapped her fingers at me.’ Sue said, scowling.

‘She will have to pay,’ Kent said.

‘You’ll assist?’

‘With pleasure.’

The End

 


End file.
